Page 142 of Catch Me
“You haven’t dated,” he pointed out.
Getting to my feet, I walked into my kitchen. My studio in Washington wasn’t as shitty as the one I’d had in Chicago, and I paid for it, which was a good feeling. It was small, but it was all I really needed. Me and my art against the world.
“Why would I date?” I asked as I poured myself another cup of coffee, then added some milk.
He leaned back against the counter. “That’s what people do. You’re out now, so act like it.”
“I’m partially out. Not Facebook official and all that.”
“You’re getting there, though.”
The kind smile on his face was a far cry from his threats to sacrifice me. Well, he still made those, but they weren’t actually hostile anymore. Usually.
“Look,” he went on, “forget about Travis and all of that. We asked you to come because we want you there. You’re our friend, even if you’re an asshole.”
“The other day, your boyfriend said he was going to deep fry my balls.”
“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole too. I still love him. Come on, please.”
“Why are you whining?” Brooks asked from the couch. I’d forgotten he was here. He was in his first semester of law school and always had his nose in a textbook.
“He doesn’t want to come with us to the World Series games,” Til replied.
“So what?”
“Dude, it’sallof the games. When will you ever have this kind of opportunity again?”
“When I make enough money,” I said.
He huffed and reached into his backpack. “Fine, be a bitch. Here’s a plane ticket for the seven AM flight tomorrow that will deposit you in Atlanta. If you show up, cool. If not, fuck you.”
“You bought him a ticket?” Brooks groaned.
“You shouldn’t have given me your card information.”
“I can’t say no to you, baby. Remember?”
“He uses that to his advantage,” I pointed out with a laugh.
“As he should. He knows a good deal when he sees one.”
Brooks got to his feet and stretched. As he came into the kitchen, he yawned.
“You’re not bringing schoolwork, right?” I asked.
He opened his mouth, then shut it when he saw his boyfriend glaring at him. All he did was shrug.
“Pack a bag,” Til demanded.
“No.”
Brooks rolled his eyes. “He said it’s your choice, but what he meant by that is he’ll come here, stick meat hooks through your skin, and drag you out.”
My nose wrinkled. “Maybe I’ll be in a hotel tonight. Look, I’ll think about it, but I don’t really want to go. It’s not that I’m scared or hung up on him. It would just be awkward and I want to leave things as they are.”
“Okay,” Til sighed. “I want to see that game creature when you’re done. It’s cool as fuck.”
“You can see it when the game comes out. I shouldn’t have even let you look.”
